As He Watched Her Sleep
by Authoresses Anonymous
Summary: [Eragon Vignette] The musings of various men as they gaze upon Arya's legendary beauty as she sleeps.


A/N: You know how sometimes stories just fall out of the sky and hit you on the head? Well, that's what happened with this one when I was up at 3:30, doing the insomniac thing. In fact, I wouldn't have even picked this book up, had it not been for my brother's relentless recommendation, so props to my bro! Well, hope you enjoy this short, little, and moderately confusing ditty...

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_##As He Watched Her Sleep##_

He was not the first to gaze upon her sleeping face, to marvel at the beauty of this mystique bathed in moonlight, the mystery dappled by midnight lights. She was the face of eternal beauty; a beauty stared upon by an eternity of men, all yearning to unravel the eternal enigma of the still, porcelain face. But their attempts were forever in vain, for she was the very façade of ancient secrets, forever undiscovered and meant to be left that way.

This Eragon knew, but still he gazed upon her beautiful face, deep in dreaming, as she lay, stretched gracefully in the open field with her raven hair frothing like sea foam over pale shoulders, looking like a dream herself.

He was ever plagued by a deeply rooted feeling that he should avert his eyes from the nakedness of her intense, unmasked face, but still he looked upon this mighty warrior, all barriers down in a restless sleep, watched as her brows furrowed, her lips moved, and fiercely-slanted eyes shifted uneasily beneath ivory lids, betraying in sleep all she worked so tirelessly to conceal during waking hours.

He longed to touch her face of unsettled beauty and brush away the demons that tormented her dreaming with a sweep of his hand across a blushing cheekbone, but he had come to respect her silent supremacy far too much to let temptation drag him over her barriers without second thought. But still he looked upon the face he could not touch, as he watched her sleep.

_He eyed the limp form bouncing in the saddle with a possessive air, like a merchant surveying his wares. Her beauty was no object to him, for he had bigger plans, and bringing an elf before the king could only bring him closer to his ambitions, raise him higher in the king's eyes. She was his ticket to yet more power, and that power was more important to him than a beauty to entrance all mortal men, for he was no mortal man. _

_A cruel and calculating smile curled his lips as he harshly ran claw-like fingers through the elf's sleek, ebony hair. His unconscious captive shivered involuntarily under the touch of the Shade. His cruel smile widened as he drove the horse mercilessly on, and a chilling, mirthless laugh bubbled in his throat, as he watched her sleep._

Arya's dreams became more troubled under Eragon's unfailing watch. She trembled and thrashed, moaned and cried out, as he sat beside her helplessly, longing to soothe the sleeping form still, but bound in his place by his own honor as well as hers. Suddenly, she lay still, a stray strand of hair falling delicately across her face. Hardly aware of what he was doing, he reached to brush the strip of midnight from away.

_He watched the whip strike the tense, defensiveness figure again and again, as if the whip was not in his own hand, but in someone else's. He felt every blow as it hit her small, weakened form as if he was being struck too. He was haunted by her blank face and the catlike eyes that stared off into the distance as he beat her. He questioned constantly why he dared to cause such pain and torment to one so pure, but being a disciplined soldier, any questions remained in his mind alone. _

_Yet, he could still hear the sounds of her retching and choking as she was poisoned, see from a bystander's view as the Shade twisted her neck so she was facing him, harshly clutching the scarred and beautiful face, demanding answers directly into her ears in a harsh yell. But he was most haunted by how her eyes never so much as met his and her face never changed as she was tortured and abused to the brink of death then back again._

_And soon, he heard the Shade's voice rasp, "Enough," saw the petite, tensed form go limp, face still empty and remote, and was chilled to notice that her lips were bloodied from biting back cries of torment. He brought the whip down once more, striking just below the angled chin, and watched her sleep._

Her eyes shot open, glowing phosphorescent in the moonlight, and she caught his wrist in mid-movement, breathing fast and harried. Eragon winced in surprise and pain as her fingers clutched his wrist in a death-grip. They remained in this position for some time, until Arya's breathing slowed, and she gradually released him. Both now upright and gasping erratically beneath the moon's undying glow, they stared into each other's eyes. Slowly, cautiously, Eragon brushed a hand tenderly across her pale, marble cheek.

Arya gazed back at him warily with a peculiar mixture of emotions dancing across her fair features. The catlike eyes crinkled in an equally catlike content, but her face was unsettled, uncomfortable at this obvious taboo. Yet, although she made no move to deepen the gesture as he lightly stroked her hair, she let him touch her, face now even more complex than it was beautiful.

_Ajihad stood among the healers as they tended Arya, still fevered and delirious from the poison's abuse. She moaned and murmured feebly, shivering as though cold while her brow burned, hot as a bellows. Then a lone name spilled from her pouted lips, and Ajihad blinked, sure he had mistaken what he had heard, as he watched her sleep._

Arya placed her own hand over his, hard and weathered despite its soft appearance, but her touch was so soft and gentle he could not be sure of that. She whispered words in the ancient language he did not know to him, and they rung in his ears like an ancient melody he had heard far in the past, but long since forgotten the words.

Then she spoke, eyes and voice sorrowful. "I cannot bear to fall deeper into your debt." As she turned away, he understood, as much as he wished he did not, and their contact broke as slowly as it had begun. The moon's unjudging eye was all that was left to watch them as they drifted back to sleep.


End file.
